By Travis Schultz
“If I could find a white boy that could sing like a black boy, I’d make a million dollars,” said Sam Phillips, the man who discovered Elvis Presley. Iggy Azalea is an Australian rapper who moved to Miami at age 15 and eventually reached mainstream success with the release of her debut album “The New Classic.” She’s known for the self-described faux “South American accent” she uses when she raps, and she’s faced controversy from detractors accusing her of using a “black voice.” One can raise comparisons to the likes of Vanilla Ice (“Ice, Ice, Baby) or Snow (“Informer,” better known as “that song where the guy talks really fast and says “licky boom boom down”), but questions of cultural appropriation aside, “The New Classic” is a misguided mess.
Produced by “The Invisible Men” and featuring a chorus sung by Charlie XCX (“I Don’t Care”), “Fancy” is the lead single. The first line rapped by Azalea already raises red flags as she proudly proclaims, “First things first/I’m the realest.” Again, trying to ignore questions of appropriation, her claim that she’s still “in the murder business” completely destroys her credibility, unless she can be charged for killing brain cells. Nothing about this song is “fancy;” the heavy, droll beat mixes with constant fake snaps and claps as Azalea raps about drinking heavily and breaking things. She brings to mind images of an obnoxious neighbor partying too loudly and leaving trash everywhere instead of some type of dignified and “fancy” social outing. Instead, Charlie XCX sings about how “fancy” they are, only for Azaela to immediately follow with classy observations about how her “flow is retarded” and how she has “swagger on stupid.”
You might think this lyrical dissonance is social commentary, similar to how Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop” is intended to show that cheap, fun outfits are just as “cool” as expensive tuxedos and dresses, but nothing on the remainder of “The New Classic” indicates that Azalea’s intentions are anything but superficial. The rest of the album blends together with forgettable and unremarkable guest stars (one assumes Azalea can’t sing a note, because she never does). The subject matter falls into two categories: either autobiographical or about relationships, and neither is interesting. The mantra of “New Bitch” is the ever-poignant issue of being your boyfriend’s—guess what?—“new bitch.”
Remember Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” or Jay-Z’s “Holy Grail”? Songs about the struggles of making it in the music industry, or even just in life, can be some of most intense and intimate topics, allowing the artist to share personal experiences with the listener, as well as inspiring them. Azalea’s attempt here, “Work,” details the secrets to success: “I be up all night/Working on that rich/I be work, work, work, work, working on my shit.” Work on your “shit” kids, and you too can be successful!
“The New Classic” is immoral, offensive, littered with bad grammar and broken English and, the greatest offense of all, boring. At very least something terrible can be interesting in how bad it is, but Azalea doesn’t care enough to even give you that. Don’t buy it, don’t listen to it, and don’t be friends anyone who’s even looked at it. The world will forget Iggy Azalea in a few short years, so why not get a leg up and start now?
